


Snow Rarely Falls Red

by New_Moon_Over_You



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (kinda), Begging, Bottom Jon Snow, Bottom Robb Stark, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Guilt, Humiliation, In Public, M/M, Men Crying, Public Humiliation, Public Nudity, Punishment, Spanking, whipping boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/New_Moon_Over_You/pseuds/New_Moon_Over_You
Summary: Robb Stark has been caught sneaking out of Winterfell to visit a brothel.Uncle Benjen catches him.... however, it would be inappropriate to punish the heir to Winterfell directly, would it not?CHAPTER 4 OUT NOW!
Relationships: Benjen Stark/Robb Stark, Jon Snow/Benjen Stark, Jon Snow/Benjen Stark/Robb Stark, Jon Snow/Robb Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 25





	1. How to Punish a Future Lord

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> This work isn't done; more chapters will be added with other kinks and scenarios - so please kudos and comment ideas you'd like to see!
> 
> I really appreciate it. Hope you enjoy guys!

The next slap cast Jon’s left cheek deeper into red hues and pushed a yelp from his thin lips into the hall. The door had been left open; and the cries of the bastard, bent over his uncle’s knee, echoed through the stone halls of the keep as though it were the cries of a wolf through the frigid air of the Godswood.

The spanks that followed made Snow whimper and gasp as his muscled ass grew purple with pain. His eyes brimmed with tears and he squirmed as the hand rained down three more times, calling out in agony and humiliation.

And, watching it all, from the side of the room, was Robb Stark, clothed in evening attire of britches and a cloth overshirt that hung loose across his broad torso. After all, it would be highly inappropriate for the heir to Winterfell and the future Warden of the North to be put over the knee to get his bottom reddened. So, alike when they were just boys, Snow had been designated as his whipping boy. Only now, the pair of them were men.

They were only just men though- as Uncle Benjen had reminded Robb after he’d caught him sneaking away from the keep to meet some girl in a brothel outside Winterfell. He had been offered a choice after that; either Benjen tells his father, or he gets his arse reddened – vicariously.

He had chosen the latter, and now here Jon was, red-arsed and weeping.

Their uncle paused, large hand hovering over the beaten buttocks, and spoke authoritatively. “So, Robb, learned your lesson yet?”

Robb nodded, and looked to the floor.

“No. Robb. You’re a man now – tell me. Have you learned your lesson yet?” came the reply, as Jon squirmed in his place, and caught eyes with his half-brother, black hair dishevelled and eyes wet.

“Yes, Uncle Benjen, I’ve learned it.” He replied, guilt twisting his guts into sailor’s knots.

“Good. I’d hate to have to give any more to your brother here.” Benjen muttered, and continued; “But I will, if I ever catch you sneaking off again.”

Jon groaned at that, low and deep.

Robb nodded, and tried to untangle the knots that were still forming in his guts; watching Jon rise slowly and receive a final soft smack to his rear; before muttering his words under his breath quickly, feeling his face flush near as red as Snow’s asscheeks. “I’m sorry, Uncle Benjen. I’m sorry, Jon.”


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Jon's beating; and a little backstory on what Robb did to earn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy chapter 2! 
> 
> Chapter 3 should be done very soon. Thanks for the great response to chapter 1!

_Robb shifted his position in the saddle and nodded to the shaggy-haired stable boy. The sun was rising, and the wind grew colder by the day. **Winter is coming,** he thought, laughing softly to himself. **May we get better weather than we did for most of the summer years.**_

_He kicked the sides of his horse and rode forwards towards the gate, shivering as he went. The keep, whilst the seat of the Starks and the centre of the North, was a boring place; a cold, empty and sad affair of flagstones that pleaded to be replaced by some grand southern palace._

_But the Stark’s ways were the old ways; and so, a brothel would have to do. If the building wasn’t to be exciting, perhaps his company could be._

*

Jon limped into his chambers, hand holding the bruised and clothed flesh of his ass, which still glowed hot from his beating by the hand of Uncle Benjen. _Damn Robb._

He slammed the door behind him and moved into the stone-walled space; rubbing his behind. He hissed as it blossomed with pain. _How many times have I taken Robb Stark’s beatings for him?_ he wondered; totalling all the fights, all of the shouting, all of the girls and anything else that caused him to be taken in hand instead of Robb. _Fifty times? Sixty?_

Limping a little further, he sat slowly onto his feather mattress, and hissed more as his britches rubbed against his sore skin. He must have received forty spanks for Robb’s indiscretion; more than ever before, and more than was fair.

After all, he was beginning to think Robb enjoyed seeing him get his arse beaten on his behalf.

He pulled his shirt over his head and let his muscled torso be open to the air, before lying back on the bed and wiping the last residual tears from his eyes. _A son of Eddard of House Stark, Warden of the North, being put over the knee to get his britches taken down and his arse spanked._ His face flushed red.

*

_Robb rode for a few moments, clearing Winterfell entirely before he saw the other rider on the dark horse approaching. **No doubt an earlier visitor to the brothel, sneaking back to the city before his wife awakened.**_

_He continued riding, feeling the soreness in his britches from his bad position. He’d been trying to improve his posture whilst riding._

_The rider approached, and it was Uncle Benjen._

*

A knock came quickly at the door of Jon’s chamber, and he sat up, running his hands over his face to shift any evidence of his beating. _Not that they’d need it, considering half the damn keep heard me crying and begging._

“Who is it? I’m busy.” He shouted.

“Busy doing what? Rubbing your arse better?”

It was Robb.

He brought himself to his feet, and opened the door quickly, looking over his half-brother. Smiling cheekily, with his sword by his side once again, curled dark hair and darker beard. Robb spoke again. “Jon. You look good, considering you’ve just gotten- well- _that_.”

“Nice try, Robb. Come in. What do you want?” he replied. Robb walked into the room and set next to the other man on the edge of the bed, after closing the door behind them.

“I- just wanted to apologise. I’m sorry you ended up getting what I should’ve gotten.” His voice was low and sincere.

Jon went wide-eyed and his face remained flushed vermillion. “You’re joking. As if the future Lord of Winterfell deserves to get slapped around. That’s why father made me your whipping boy, wasn’t it?”

Robb looked across the man’s broad, bare shoulders and muscled torso. “I don’t mean like that. It doesn’t matter that I’m the heir, Jon. You shouldn’t have to take something like that for my shit. How’s your arse, brother?”

Jon smiled- turning to a grimace as he quickly ran his hand on his asscheeks. “It stings bloody murder.”

Robb Stark laughed slightly. “You got it real bad. I’ve got some salve from Luwin. He says it’ll help abate the sting, brother.” He held up a small satchel. “I can’t help but feel guilty.”

“Thanks.” Jon grabbed it, and looked inside. A small amount of white creamy substance sat in the pouch. “You really feel guilty about me taking your spankings? Who would’ve thought.”

The two shared a quick laugh, and smiled at one another.

Robb spoke under his breath, quietly. “I was thinking, Jon. Can I make it up to you? A horse? Sword?”

Jon thought for a while, and rubbed his face.

“No- I don’t want something from you, Robb. But maybe- the next time you feel- you know- gods- like you’ve done something that father or Benjen would beat me for and haven’t got yourself caught-” he mumbled.

“You want to punish me yourself, Jon?” Robb questioned, wide-eyed and growing a little red.

“Yes, if you’d be alright with it, Robb. I think it would do you well to get a punishment yourself."

Robb nodded ever so slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.
> 
> Merry Christmas, and a happy new year!


	3. A Stark Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days after Jon's spanking, Robb, Jon and Bran sit around in a banquet, and the topic of conversation drifts somewhere... slightly embarassing for the bastard of Ned Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for the comments and kudos on the last couple chapters - shout-out to Peach_Bitters and majorbisexualdisaster for the kind words.
> 
> Once again, let me know if there's anything you'd like to occur! I have a couple more chapters already planned.
> 
> Enjoy!

Stark family banquets were usually affairs about as exciting as the grey stone rooms in which they were held; though Jon and Robb might get a laugh from Arya’s antics, and Sansa’s response. On this day, however, with Benjen having arrived at the wall a week ago (and having beaten Jon four days ago), as well as other guests from across the north visiting, the atmosphere became decidedly more merry than usual feasts. Dornish wines and Northern ales were poured, and the Starks were scattered around the chamber; though Jon, Robb and Bran had clustered around a small table in the corner of the room.

The youngest among the three boys spoke up, massacring the venison on his plate with a dagger in a vague attempt to cut it and a clearer attempt to massacre it.

“Robb, you got caught riding out of the castle without asking father?”

Jon looked into his own plate, and pushed it away, instead supping at his ale quietly.

Robb nodded slightly, and forced a chuckle. “Aye. Just like you got caught climbing the tower again the other day, eh?” He ruffled his brother’s hair, who smiled guiltily, before catching eyes with Jon, who grew a little red.

It reminded him of his ass on that day, getting spanked by Benjen. _I suppose the marks would be gone by now, though with how hard Uncle hits, perhaps not._

Bran carried on in his childish tones; “I heard that you got beaten for it, Robb. I thought you were a man now?”

Robb laughed, and Jon’s face flushed.

“Aye. But you know that I can’t get them myself? As heir to Winterfell?”

Jon coughed under his breath, and pushed his plate a little further, catching awkward eyes with Robb once again, and stared daggers into his brother.

Robb continued, wine having loosened his lips. “So somebody gets picked to take them for me, and I have to watch.”

Bran laughed, and Robb drew back, laughing too. “What, Bran?”

“That’s really lucky.”

Robb rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t like seeing someone take my beating for me. Especially not Jon.”

Jon’s eyes flitted between his brothers, mouth agape slightly, as Robb had let his role as his whipping boy slip in public.

*

A knock came at the door, and it opened before Jon could call Robb in. And in he came, red-faced and full of apologies for what had happened at the banquet, wine causing his flush and drawing his words into slight incoherence.

Jon held his ale between his legs, sat on the edge of the bed, and ran his free hand through his curled hair. His arse still stung a little from Uncle Benjen’s spanking.

“Jon- I’m- Gods. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told Bran about you- you know.” Robb stammered, slamming the door behind him and taking three unsteady steps towards his brother, whom replied; “You shouldn’t drink so much, Robb. It always loosens that bloody tongue of yours far too much. And when that happens, shit like this happens. Doesn’t it?”

Robb nodded with guilt and readied himself for what he was about to ask.

He asked it.

*

Jon had stormed out of the banquet in a huff, all raven-hair and irate, and marched to his room, where he took a seat on his bed. A knock came at the door.

“Yeah- Robb, come in.” Jon called, voice tinged with dismay.

“No- it’s your uncle.”

 _Uncle bloody Benjen._ He was a man that Jon admired and respected, and whilst he was normally ecstatic to see him, his beating at his hand had soured that slightly. Nevertheless, he opened the door and smiled, giving the other man a firm shake of the hand before turning back into the room and sitting on the bed once again.

“Given up on the banquet then?”

“Too hot and busy for me.” Jon replied, lying unconvincingly.

“Aye. Not sure you need much more heat after the other day.” Benjen laughed as Jon looked to the floor in humiliation. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry I had to do that to you. Robb should’ve been the one to get his arse beaten.”

Jon nodded, and laughed a little. “He’s always needed it, really.”

“He has, hasn’t he?”

They sat for a little while, talking about the Wall and the whipping boy, before Benjen took his leave.

“Not like me to give up the opportunity to see Arya spoon cow shit into Sansa’s pudding. I’ll see you later, Jon.”

*

“Can- can you punish me- y’know, like you said?” Robb had asked.

Jon only nodded slowly, and spoke under his breath. “Only if you’re sure.”

Robb nodded too.

Jon commanded: “Robb, take down your britches and get over my knee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Oh- don't you worry. Next chapter will be 70% Robb's spanking at Jon's hand. Sorry to tease a little.
> 
> Chapter 4 will be out very, very soon. 
> 
> Catch you later!


	4. A Lord's True Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb has agreed to have his arse spanked good by Jon. 
> 
> Jon makes good on that agreement; followed by some brotherly shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> Here's your Robb Stark gets spanked by Jon chapter. Lots of fun writing this one!
> 
> Enjoy!

Robb’s britches fell by his own hand, though Jon thought the strong, muscular, proud and glorious heir to Winterfell wouldn’t dare bare himself in front of a mere bastard like himself. Not that he could see his brother’s cock; the flaps of leather on his tunic ensured that it remained hidden. _Thank the gods; the situation is embarrassing enough for Robb as it is._

Jon spoke quietly. “They might hear us, you know.”

Robb stared back. “They’re all drunk. They’ll think you’re taking some woman in here.”

Jon doubted that very much indeed; yet continued, brushing off his clothed knees and tapping them slightly. “Get over then, Robb.”

The taller man obliged slowly and carefully, standing to the right side of his knees, before letting his chest and stomach fall over Jon’s lap and pushing his ass into position; cursing slightly as he felt his prick against Jon’s rough cloth trousers. He felt his face burning up and flushing red as the humiliation and embarrassment at being bent over his brother’s lap for a spanking; like a little boy, awaiting his father’s punishment.

And Jon took him in hand just as Benjen had him, squeezing the muscled flesh of his arse cheeks- a prelude of what to come- before speaking gently to the humiliated man on his knee.

“Why are you getting your arse spanked, Robb?”

Robb’s throat grew tense and a ball of humiliation rose in his chest before sinking as though it were a ship in a storm, thrashing about inside him.

“I humiliated you, Jon-” he started.

“Yes, why else?”

“I’ve-” he began, before pausing and thinking for a moment, staring into the wooden beams of the floor. “I’ve not gotten my own punishments for too long.”

Jon nodded, satisfied, before raising a hand into the air and bringing it down, hard, onto his ass, drawing a slight sigh from the other man. He’d never been beaten properly; only a disciplinary spank by Theon, or a single slap by some woman in a brothel he’d snuck out to; and it stung with pain and humiliation; as did the next ten smacks that impacted his flesh, Jon gripping and massaging the flesh between strikes.

Robb was calling out under his breath by the fifteenth strike, and embarrassingly squirming by the twentieth, as though he hadn’t taken this much pain when he was training and dislocated his shoulder, or when Theon had spun him a little too hard with a training sword.

The next strike took his left cheek, and he cursed as Jon rained another onto his right, and his left, and his right, and they kept coming- alternating between the two- redder and redder, harder and harder- and he cursed- louder and louder.

The flesh burned hot by thirty, and by fourty, Jon began cursing.

“Robb, you’re going to have to stop- fucking hell- squirming! Take your beating like a man!”

Seven more rained down, harder than all the others. His arse grew purple.

*

Robb wiped the tears from his eyes, and started crying again, tears rolling down his face and dripping from his chin onto the parchments on the table. The ink ran, and yet he dipped the quill back into the pot, and continued writing; as Jon had commanded him to do so.

He'd been told to write out, in his finest handwriting, two pages of confessions to his brother; things he’d done yet not been caught doing, that he thought he should be punished, over the knee (or otherwise) for. Jon had told him they need not go through with the punishments if he didn’t want, but Robb, like the honourable idiot he was, had told him he would go through with them all.

A final tear fell, and he looked around the otherwise empty chamber – Jon had said he’d return in thirty minutes, giving Robb time to rub his arse better and write out his confessions. His arse was purple and bruised in places, and as he shifted in his chair, he felt the pain and humiliation of what had just occurred once again.

After all, Jon had taken his britches with him, and told him he can only have them back and re-join the banquet after he’d given in his writing.

*

He was stood in the corner of the room, beaten arse on show, having completed his list on two pieces of parchment, when Jon entered the bedchamber.

He heard the light footsteps as his brother stepped to the writing desk, looked over the two sheets, before turning towards Robb, and taking several steps towards him. Robb’s face burned with humiliation, as his legs still shook a little from the spanking.

“Good, Robb. Your backside still looks good and beaten.” He gave his brother’s ass a quick slap with the palm of his hand, enjoying the curse that came forth from his mouth.

“Oh- and I’ve left your britches somewhere near Benjen’s room. You might need to get them yourself.”

Jon smiled and laughed, as Robb turned to see him leaving the room with a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be writing at least a couple more chapters of this - it's been great fun to write so far!
> 
> Loving the comments and kudos; so carry on and maybe suggest stuff you'd like to see!
> 
> Catch you later.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Jon.
> 
> We'll deal with the aftermath of such a harsh spanking another time, I'm sure.
> 
> Comments and kudos are super appreciated! Catch you later.


End file.
